Slavery and The Color Red
by Page1229
Summary: Two-shot. Bui has been suffering most of his life because he is too strong to be around anyone. Karasu is completely in love with the color red, so what does that mean for our redheaded kitsune? Rated T to be safe.
1. Slavery

Disclaimer: I do not own YYH or its characters

Bui

Slave, that was the word that described me. A slave to my own power and to my desire. I was born with a natural aura that protected me but also kept the ones I loved at bay. I thought it best to isolate myself so I would not hurt anyone. My sanctuary was deep in the mountains where I trained in the hopes of discovering a way to control my aura but it only seemed to grow stronger and more unmanageable. It seemed like a cruel device created by whatever god to raise me up from the standards of mortal beings to something a kin to a demigod. A slave to my aura.

Then he appeared and challenged me, the fool. At least that was my first thought; my reputation for being unbeatable had surpassed me before I even left my home behind. Stories that I did not even have to lift a finger to defeat my opponents were widespread and not completely false. But still, the man arrived with such a confident attitude I could not wait to see him fall. His eyes remained hidden by a pair of sunglasses; at the time I thought they were to hide his true self. Now I know they served a similar, if not darker, purpose.

"You defeat me now or you become my slave!" His voice ripped through my mind as I lied broken at his feet. Harsh reality kicked in: I may have been unbeatable but that did not mean I was invincible. If I truly was a demigod then that must have made Toguro a god. The humiliation would have been bad enough if not for the mark he left on my forehead, a true sign of my enslavement. My aura had finally been tamed but not in the way I had wanted.

For years I followed him around and trained so I could become stronger and end my enslavement, but it was not to be. All those years I grew stronger, he became the invincible one. I was not the only one he had kept but the other man, Karasu, was only an ally to me. He had his own standards that I did not agree with but I knew if I needed help defeating the Toguro brothers he would be there.

I thought my chance of freedom had finally arrived during the Dark Tournament, I was pitted against a boy who claimed to have tamed a dragon. Part of me pitied him, he was oblivious to the power I held. If I defeated the wielder of the dragon then there had to be a chance I could defeat Toguro. I took my time with Hiei, trying to exercise restraint in an effort to not destroy him. But the child proved to be resilient, especially since he had experienced a great amount of energy loss from the first summoning. I was forced to remove my armor which trapped my aura inside. The dragon was unleashed and I stared into the pits of absolute oblivion, I am still unsure if I remained sane.

I wrestled the underworld beast until it turned on its handler. The child was devoured and it seemed like I had won, not only the competition but also the shred of hope. The price of hope was the life of a young boy but he had brought it upon himself by playing with fire. My victory was short lived as Hiei reemerged from thin air and our fight continued.

"Kill me," I begged. He looked into my eyes and said, "No." I laid bare all of my emotions, trying to convey just how hollow I was and that there was no point in keeping me alive. I was defeated, by Toguro and this boy. There was no honor in being a slave and I wanted it to end. But Hiei refused to take my life and suggested if I wanted to die then I should do it myself. To take my own life would remove what little honor I had left, I could not do it.

The Toguros were dead and I had finally been freed. I was all that remained of our team: Karasu had been killed by his own obsession, Elder had been defeated by the more mundane fighter and destroyed by his brother for his treachery, and Younger Toguro was killed by the student of his former love. I saw what the glasses had hidden, it was his true self. Madness, nothing but madness. It seemed the master was also a slave.

Now I stand here, in the midst of a crumbling arena, contemplating whether to escape or not. What would be the point? I was still a slave to my own power. I could wear the armor but then I would still be isolated like before. As the clock runs down, I'm in no hurry to make a decision. I start walking toward the exit everyone is running to, spotting the team who freed me and even catching a glance from the boy I fought. His expression was blank but I sensed there was pity.

The timer reads one minute as I make it to the corridors leading to the exit. A few stragglers pass me by. Will I ever be free? My whole life I lived in seclusion so others would not suffer. It was my choice but I was never happy with the decision. I reach the exit and walk out of the building as the timer reads twenty seconds. I imagine the blast radius would be pretty wide so I'm not safe yet.

All of the spectators who managed to live to see the finale and the winning team are all several yards away. I bet none of them have ever been forced to live like a hermit. The clock starts counting down from ten. I stand at the edge, staring at my second chance to live but glancing back at my possible demise. Would it be so bad? In the afterlife they might judge me for all the terrible things I've done since joining Toguro but one could argue I had no choice. Well, now I choose: continue living like a slave for the rest of my life or facing possible eternal damnation. Whichever does not have me causing any more harm.


	2. The Color Red

Karasu

I have always loved the color red. Such a common color but used in so many different ways: to express love, passion, rage, and even violence. Red is the color that travels the farthest in a sunset, the most desired hue of a rose, and the color that spills out of an enemy when a well placed strike hits its mark. It should be no surprise that when I first saw him, my eyes were immediately drawn to his hair; such a vibrant shade of that delicious color especially in contrast to his ivory skin. His hair drew me in but his face was what sealed his fate. Such soft, delicate features he almost resembled an adolescent girl. I longed to touch his skin but I remembered what my touch would do to him so I refrained from doing so in our first encounter. I remember how he trembled when all I did was run my fingers through his hair; his emerald eyes that acted as closed doors throughout the beginning of the tournament were quivering with fear. I laughed and mocked him but I could not stop myself from touching his beautiful red hair. I covered up my obsession with a small insult about his maintenance.

That night I dreamed about what it would be like to touch his skin and cut off his head to keep as a memento. The next morning, I decided it would be best to avoid harming his face. I knew I would not be able to cut off his head and keep it like I had dreamed, his friends and my allies would not agree with that, but I would still kill him and just have the image of him in my memories.

Such a clever fox he was: our battle was long and in that span he managed to revert back to his former demon image, but only temporarily, and for a time I did believe he would kill me. But I quickly gained the upper hand and I had caused enough damage to make him scream. That delicious color poured out of him as bits of his body were torn apart by my bombs. His cries of pain were like music, his blood splattering onto his clothes and matching his hair provided a nice frame, his feminine visage not losing any of its beauty even when he was screaming; I wanted so bad to make that moment last forever. But his human body was pitifully frail and he collapsed.

My last thought was that I would have that image of him beaten and broken but his face still intact to comfort me. I am thankful that was the last thing I saw before I felt an intense pain pierce my chest and I felt my energy slip away. My death was so beautiful, my blood was completely drained from my body and what was left transformed into a giant rose. A beautiful, beautiful red rose.


End file.
